


To Culminate

by LittleLinor



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Asexual Character, D/s relationship, Deepthroating, M/M, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Service Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: Serving someone who does everything himself isn't easy, but Ibuki's found that sating one appetite in particular can be a lot of fun.





	To Culminate

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I probably need to put a disclaimed to PLEASE not play around with this kind of dynamic unless you know and trust your partner very well.  
> (Well maybe I don't but you never know)
> 
> Additional trigger warnings: Involves hair pulling, some pretty rough treatment, and mild (consensual) objectification.  
> Also ace characters engaging in sex, which can def be a trigger (hi)
> 
>  
> 
> ANYWAY, I'd never actually finished anything sexual for these two, so that's now fixed. Have some cute (?) Married D/s Smut.  
> This is set several years in the future (obviously), with Chrono being in his early-to-mid-twenties

When Ibuki came home on that Saturday evening, he found the apartment empty.  
It wasn't entirely shocking, but it was rare enough that he had a moment of unease, a little shiver at the lack of gentle light and warmth and animation that he usually came home to. Chrono really had a knack for turning a place into a _home_ with his presence, and missing it made the apartment feel empty and cold.  
 _Maybe his event ran late…_ The Dark Zone branch wasn't prone to the spontaneous extravagances the Dragon Empire one was known for, but its attendance had grown a lot over the last year and they were struggling to keep up, sometimes taking more time to make sure every participant in their event got to do what they came for. And this weekend, they also had a series of exhibition fights to close the day; if those had taken longer than usual, it would add up quickly.  
And then Chrono still had to commute home.  
If he'd known he was going to run late, Ibuki would have gone to pick him up by car. It wasn't necessarily faster with traffic, but they could have spent that time together. And maybe he would have caught the end of the fight.  
Being forced to deal with some emergency planning at the main branch and not being able to attend the event still made his chest a little tight. Chrono's fights against opponents who actually challenged him were always something to behold, and he wanted to be there to support him too.  
Sighing, he took his coat and shoes off and went to the kitchen, hesitating before microwaving himself a cup of coffee. There was a plate of cookies on the counter that Chrono had made the previous evening, but he didn't have the heart to eat them alone; instead, he just retrieved his mug from the microwave and went to sit down with it. He wasn't in the mood for watching tv, so maybe he could just catch up to his personal email and messages until Chrono got there.  
He had been spacing out when a key finally turned and the door opened.  
“I'm home—Kouji?”  
Chrono walked in, hair a little askew and face still flushed from the wind, and squinted at him.  
“Welcome home,” he murmured.  
“What're you doing in the dark? I almost thought you weren't home yet.”  
Ibuki looked around. While he'd been spacing out, the red light of the early evening had indeed faded into the first stages of night time, not quite darkness but still a coat of grey and blue.  
“… I spaced out,” he admitted, standing up. “How was the event?”  
“Tiring, but good,” Chrono said, turning on the light. Before he could do more, Ibuki silently caught his coat and slid it off his shoulders, hanging it while Chrono took care of his shoes. “Sorry I'm so late.”  
“Was it crowded again?”  
“Mmhmm. And then the fight went on for a while… and Jaime wanted to chat afterwards… I had to promise him we'd hang out before he goes back so he'd let me go,” he chuckled.  
“Did you win?” Ibuki asked, lightly kissing his cheek.  
Chrono grinned, his eyes still burning.  
“Of course I did.” His arm slid around Ibuki's waist, and Ibuki's heart skipped a beat. “It was a close one though.”  
“As expected,” Ibuki said, leaning his head against Chrono's hair. “I wish I could've seen it.”  
“Well, if you come along, we can probably all fight… but I guess the GIRS gives an extra edge, huh?”  
Ibuki smiled.  
“It's a good thing they finally upgraded it enough to withstand your Stride Force.”  
Chrono scowled, and Ibuki felt his smile widen.  
“Don't remind me,” he muttered. “You'd think it'd have stopped being a problem after the gate closed, not get _worse_.”  
“Is it that surprising that your strength would continue to grow? The gate merely provided it a channel to reach Cray.”  
“… maybe not when you put it like that.” He sighed, and leaned his head forward against Ibuki's shoulder, tightening his fingers on his waist. Ibuki's breath caught, but before he could ask or suggest anything, Chrono let go of him and straightened. “Are you hungry?”  
“… not really. I…” He paused, then winced. “I ate lunch and nothing since. You're right.”  
Chrono grinned.  
“Knew it. Give me a minute, I'm starving too. Did you take the leftover rice?”  
“No.”  
“I'll just fry that, then.”  
He made his way to the kitchen in just a few brisk steps. Ibuki hung behind for a second, still feeling shivers ghost along his spine: for a moment, he'd thought Chrono was in one of those rare moods where he could be as forward and unrelenting as a tsunami, but the moment had passed, and he didn't want to interrupt him if he was busy—or hungry.  
Paying attention to his moods and needs and taking care of them was something Ibuki took pride in. As a child, those observations had been a survival tactic, in a world full of people he didn't understand who were all too ready to take those moods out on him if he stepped out of line. Now, though, he was strong and respected enough that people left him alone, and instead of a stressful and traumatising compulsion, that habit had slowly grown into something personal and exciting.  
Chrono never asked much of him, being both too gentle and too independent to be demanding. And thus he'd failed, at first, to find ways to properly express his devotion. How did you serve someone who never asked anything you wouldn't enthusiastically give, who was better than you at most household tasks, and whose reflex was always to handle things himself? There was only so much waiting on him he could do.  
But anticipating his needs in general was exciting and satisfying, a natural extension of his observations, and while it often consisted of having coffee ready before Chrono himself realised he'd been craving it, discovering that both of them enjoyed sex while neither had a strong drive pushing them towards it had opened new doors.  
Just because Chrono didn't feel the need to seek satisfaction of his sexual moods when they came didn't mean Ibuki couldn't make himself available.  
Normally, finding Chrono in such a mood, he would already have tried to take care of it. But now he'd dodged, and now he was _busy_ , and Ibuki really didn't want to get in his way.  
Maybe he just didn't want to and had sidestepped the situation as tactfully as he could without actually talking about it.   
Rather than push the issue, he followed him into the kitchen. Somehow, in the minute it had taken him to get his act together and get there, Chrono had already taken out the container of rice and several vegetables, and was chopping an onion.  
The nervous energy in him was tangible.  
“Do you need help?” Ibuki offered.  
“No, I'm fine, I won't be long… well, you can peel that carrot maybe.”  
Before he could decide to do everything himself anyway, Ibuki grabbed a peeler and started working on the carrot.  
The sudden noise of a blade hitting wood hard and a hissed swear from Chrono stopped him.  
Immediately, he put down what he was doing and took the two steps to his partner, reaching for his hands.  
“Are you hurt?”  
“No, but it was close—sorry, I'm all over the place tonight.”  
“Please be careful.”  
“I know. I know, I…”  
He trailed off, biting his lip. Ibuki leaned his head on his shoulder in a way he hoped was sufficiently calming.  
A hand made its way to the hair at the back of his neck and gripped.  
He froze. Firmly but carefully enough not to hurt much, Chrono angled his head so their eyes could meet, his own full of hesitation and question. Breath already shaking, Ibuki nodded.  
He expected to be pushed down. Instead, Chrono pulled his head back and started kissing at his neck, then biting.  
 _Sunday tomorrow_ , he remembered with a shiver of excitement. He could afford a few marks.  
Chrono moved down his neck until he reached the slope of his shoulder, and bit, harder, enough that that one would bruise rather than just leave a faint red mark that would be gone in hours.  
Ibuki gasped, clinging on to him. For Chrono to actually initiate in this kind of situation, to assert what he needed instead of focusing on Ibuki or needing Ibuki to openly offer himself first, was rare, rare enough that it was making him dizzy with excitement and—if he was completely honest—a kind of nervousness that was part of the experience.  
Part of him was scared, of where things would go, of not knowing where they would go, and that was exactly why he wanted it.  
With a sigh that brushed against his damp, tender bruising skin, Chrono released his shoulder.  
“Are you still up for this?” he asked quietly, his firm hold leaving no doubt about his intentions unless Ibuki backed out.  
“ _Yes_ ,” Ibuki breathed out. “Please.”  
Chrono's fingers bit deeper into his skin.

“… not here,” he murmured, grabbing Ibuki's wrist after a second. “Come on.”  
He pulled him along, out of the kitchen and towards the living room, before leaning back against the wall. That he'd put his own back to the wall rather than Ibuki's gave him a good idea of where he was headed, and his suspicion was confirmed when after a series of biting kisses, Chrono's hand tangled into his hair and pulled down, an unequivocal message.  
 _On your knees_.  
Trying to keep his shaking under control, Ibuki obeyed, lowering one knee and then the other with the ease of years of practice. Part of him wanted to keep his eyes up, to keep contact with Chrono's own and feel the power in their position as strongly as possible, but there was something to keeping his eyes down too, a dizzying, satisfying shudder in his chest that just heightened the weight of what he was doing, made it _real_ and in equal parts intimidating and warm, a feeling that only sunk deeper as Chrono's fingers rubbed into his scalp in silent praise.  
Now that he was actually there, and not carried by the momentum of making himself initiate, he found himself, for a second, too nervous to continue; for a second, he pressed his forehead forward against Chrono's stomach, a silent request for a moment's mercy, and to his relief, Chrono let him, just petting his hair. He took a deep breath, centering himself, and let his hands run up Chrono's legs, hooked behind them, holding on to him in his own way. Chrono's hips pressed forward against him in reflexive response; the rawness of it sunk into him like an anchor, the feeling of being used already seeping into his every muscle: he knew he could call it off at any moment, and yet the illusion that he would be taken for granted, that Chrono would disregard his reactions, settled on his shoulders and made him hazy with a helpless want of his own.  
It was all too easy to slip into.  
Chrono was not someone who indulged. Years of originally tight budgets and guilt for even existing and needing to be raised had squashed any natural tendency towards it he could have had as a child, and even though that guilt had healed, he'd grown into someone whose satisfaction came more from taking care of others than satisfying his own desires and pleasure. Getting him to shed that guilt and let himself take what he wanted not just in terms of choice and life decisions but for the little pleasures of life had taken a while, especially when he was so worried that Ibuki was only offering out of duty or insecurity.  
Feeling him so confident in his claim now made all the efforts and awkward communication worth it. Not just because he found satisfaction in being used, but because seeing Chrono enjoy himself with no reservation or care or guilt made him deeply happy. He would have done it even if he got nothing in exchange, if he could contribute to his beloved partner's happiness, if he could lift the weight of always being responsible and selfless from his shoulders for a short moment.  
He rubbed his thumbs into Chrono's thighs through the fabric, and Chrono all but thrust against his face again, hands tightening in his hair. It was all he needed to start sinking, to drown himself in the feeling of being put to use, and he obeyed the silent reminder, releasing Chrono's legs to work on his belt instead, his hesitation snuffed out.   
The brass-coloured buckle was easy to undo; he slid the remaining length of the belt through it and out, and let it hang from Chrono's hips. Moving to unbutton his fly, he felt with a jolt that Chrono was starting to harden. He was doing his job well, then, he told himself with satisfaction as he finished opening his trousers and pushing them down.   
His underwear was black, something that he'd always thought looked good against his healthy, barely tan skin; he'd commented on it one day and Chrono had always bought that colour ever since. Now as always, the reminder held, in itself, a kind of tenderness that made him feel appreciated, and it was with extra care that he bent forward and kissed over the slight bulge, shivering at the twitch he felt even through the fabric.  
Chrono hissed in a breath, back arching slightly and hand tightening in Ibuki's hair. It was a little painful, but that was nothing he didn't want, and Chrono knew it; as if to prove it, he pressed forward for a second, firmer kiss, letting the grip pull at his scalp. Chrono chuckled, breathy, but followed with his hand, releasing the tension: even now, his first reflex was always to be careful and considerate.  
Sliding his hands back up to Chrono's hips, Ibuki hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled it down. As the skin of his lower stomach was bared, Ibuki kissed it, just above the band, on his stomach at first and then down, following the fabric, over the dip where the curve started to change, between his legs, and finally over the first revealed tufts of curly red hair. Chrono swore under his breath as the band dragged along his half-formed erection, then bit down a moan as it went past it and down, sliding down his legs with Ibuki's trailing hands. He was growing harder by the second, and Ibuki took the chance to deliver a small lick to the underside as he freed his hands so he could get them back up.  
He was immediately rewarded with another, less careful pull of his hair, Chrono's hand twisting and pressing him closer. Ibuki's breath caught; even at his most shameless, Chrono usually kept more reserve, but this felt almost like the sexual equivalent of being opposite him in a serious fight. The roaring pressure in him would've frozen Ibuki in place if he wasn't already there by his own will.  
For years now he'd hoped to coax Chrono's wild side into the open, to see his fire unleashed and let himself be consumed by it. His fierceness was beautiful, overpowering; he let himself be grabbed and moved, as if carried by its flow, drunk on it and too scared of it stopping to slow down. From a small lick, he went to a kiss, then a longer lick along most of its length. He'd even forgotten to be intimidated, instead going to work with single-minded focus, obeying Chrono's silent command and giving him as much attention as his mouth could give, his hands on his hips and his thumbs rubbing circles into his hipbones.  
He'd been scared, the first time, despite initiating himself, and even now some trace of it often stayed, like a white noise in the background. But he embraced it now, had made it his own, just like he'd embraced and come to treasure the feeling of gagging against something immutable that he would no doubt be treated to later. Over the years, he'd not only practiced but also researched, taking mental notes of Chrono's preferences, of what made him sigh in quiet pleasure and what made the fire in him blaze. The way he enjoyed light teasing to his balls early on but could be unsettled by it in the heat of the action. The weakness he had for little laps near the base. The exact amount of suction Ibuki needed to use to get him to release, those times when Chrono left him to work from start to finish rather than taking control. He was proud, of his work and effort, of his technique, of knowing exactly how to kiss him now to get Chrono to react, slowly pressing his hips up towards him with a moan. Of being able to be perfect for him.  
(Or so he tried to be, anyway. It was a work in progress. But even that, he was proud of. The work he put into it.)  
By the time Chrono was fully hard, Ibuki was nuzzling him, holding him with one hand and playing near the base with the other; Chrono's hand on his head kept him in place and saved him from having to pull himself close. He licked and kissed and moved slowly up towards his now properly bared tip, and Chrono breathed out his name, rubbing fingers into his scalp in appreciation.  
Reaching the tip, he brushed his lips against it, then dragged his tongue across, around. The warm smoothness was something he marveled at every time, and despite all his apprehensions, the feeling of it was mesmerising enough that he did want to feel it in his mouth—and so he did, pulling back a little so he could wrap his lips around it and press down, letting it into his mouth. Chrono moaned; he rubbed his tongue along the underside, catching the foreskin lightly in its wake, and felt him twitch in his mouth.  
Judging by his breathing, it must have taken him incredible willpower to not just thrust forward. Ibuki hoped that by the time he was done, he could convince him to drop that reserve altogether.  
He took him in deeper. It was both a message and simple worship, reminding him of what he could do while taking the best care of him that he could. Chrono was larger than one would have expected for his height, something that made him self-conscious; for now, it meant that even with Ibuki's mouth quickly filled, he was far from reaching the base. But this was only a beginning, and the size would become a blessing later. He sucked, and let the tip hit the back of his mouth as a reminder, before pulling back, to catch his breath and look up at him.  
Chrono's face was flushed, but his eyes were burning, bright even under his dampening hair. Ibuki's breath shuddered.  
“Chrono…”  
Chrono smiled, breathless and frighteningly calm, the feral languidness of a predator sure of its kill.  
Without a word, he pushed Ibuki back down on him.

Ibuki didn't need to be told twice; he opened his mouth and took him in again, moving up and down on him and sucking along with it, building a slow rhythm. Their combined fluids were making him slick, and Ibuki's lips slid over him with more and more ease; he let them brush with more pressure, bringing him as much friction, as much contact as he could. He took his time. Neither of them were the kind to rush things, and he wanted to give him as much pleasure as he could, to let him last as long as he could; if Chrono wanted to finish earlier, he just needed to tell or make him. For now, he was content to worship him, stroking him sensually with his tongue and lips and savouring the slightly panicky sensation that still came with his mouth being filled. When Chrono's breathing came faster, he pulled back, and moved to lick closer to the base instead, replacing the hand that had been holding and stroking him there.  
Chrono let out a long, shuddering sigh, hips bucking forward a little, but it was a reflexive movement, not a deliberate one, and he made no attempts to force Ibuki back onto him, instead playing with the pressure he put on his hair and scalp. Relaxing one second, twisting harder the next, rubbing his knuckles into his scalp. It was, in a way that was uniquely his, a kind of petting, of tenderness, and Ibuki wrapped himself in the warm, comforting waves of light pain and forceful contact as he kept lavishing attention on the base of his erection, brushing lips and tongue, suckling ever so lightly, dragging the inside of his lips against him as a reminder of the warmth his mouth held. If Chrono had accepted his silent offer to make him last, he was going to give him the best he could. And if he decided he had had enough, he just needed to force him back.  
He lapped at him gently, his heart catching every time Chrono's erection pulsed or twitched. It felt like it had a mind of its own, and was encouraging him in its own way, demanding attention, and it fed his happy craving to deliver all the attention he could. He worked, lapping and sucking and listening to Chrono's reactions, until Chrono's breath started coming harder again and the hold in his hair tightened in a way Ibuki thought wasn't entirely calculated.  
In most intimate situations, Chrono was someone who talked a lot, filling those moments not just with careful communication but with endearments and the occasional joke or teasing. Here, though, after trying to direct him vocally and check on him constantly at first, he'd gradually figured out that Ibuki not only enjoyed being directly used or directed, forced to do what Chrono had in mind, but that it was easier for him too. It was easier to react than to brace himself to initiate a new action every time; doing it like this fed a high that Ibuki loved staying suspended in, and with time, Chrono had switched to direct control almost completely, only gracing him with a few orders and compliments that felt all the more special.  
And if Ibuki did need to ask him to stop, the strong dissonance with the usual mood would help him make his distress or need known immediately.  
So when Chrono's impatience started to make itself known, he still waited, continuing what he was doing as best as he could. The _decision_ to change course was Chrono's, and his alone.

He had been moving back a little to lick up again when Chrono's hand tightened in his hair again, stopping him in place. Before he could look up, he was all but shoved back down, and barely had time to open his mouth before it was filled again, his lips stretching, his throat twitching a little at the pressure on his tongue. He closed his eyes hurriedly to adapt to the sudden change, and let Chrono press him further down, relaxing his jaw as much as he could and stroking up with his tongue the moment he was given a hint of respite.   
The pressure eased. He moaned a little, finally able to enjoy the sensations without scrambling to adjust to them, and sucked in appreciation, in tender worship. Better get his emotions across while he could, because the shift in mood that he was catching on warned him that he might not get another chance for a while.  
Moving up and back down a little, he opened his eyes, and looked up at the flushed face and the sharp, brilliant green that stayed fixed on him.  
The shudder that ran through him felt like lightning. Knowing that Chrono was _watching him_ , had been watching him while he was down there with his eyes cast down, with his eyes closed, had seen every expression on his face and every movement of his tongue, that he could now see him with his lips spread, voice and facial expressions both forcefully silenced, his eyes the only part of him that could still talk, was one of the deepest, most powerful feelings he had experienced, and he felt like he'd all but lost himself in it, everything else about him successfully subdued, overtaken by the feeling. Being. Being this, and nothing else.  
He looked up, and there was nothing in him that even thought of fighting, of acting, of deciding. All there was to him was this link between them, and his body in Chrono's grip, spread around him.  
And Chrono's own eyes were burning, not even with the rage of fighting, but with a power that felt like it could remake the world, power and pressure that felt so natural that it went beyond fire. Like his awakened self, the calm and confident power he had displayed when he finally understood what potential his imagination really held.   
He felt—absolute.  
Ibuki's breath hitched, his shoulders shuddering. With that gaze on him, he wanted so desperately for Chrono to actually _use him_ , for him to go forward with the same unhesitant will.  
And then, like a fluttering veil, a ghost of a confident smile breathed across Chrono's face.  
Merely a heartbeat, and the tension on his hair tightened again, and he found himself shoved closer, mouth fully filled and spread, Chrono no longer brushing against his throat but pushing against it, into it, and no amount of relaxing could stop the reflexive clench of his throat.  
In vain. Chrono kept him where he was, and a second later his throat was forced to relax, and then he was being pushed into, and then the world around him disappeared.  
Pressed so close to him, he could barely see anything else, Chrono's skin and first hints of hair blurring with coming tears. Chrono's hand on his head kept him trapped, contained, restrained from both sides, narrowing his world even further. He whimpered—and couldn't. He couldn't breathe, couldn't stop the mad beating of his heart, equal parts excitement and fear and emotion. As his skin burned with the waves of feeling crashing through him, he felt tears fall, no longer just from the physical strain but from emotion, the overpowering feeling of being held, owned. In and out. No aspect of him felt out of Chrono's control, and he could only take it, could only _be_ as Chrono rubbed fingertips into the back of his head and moved again, pulling back just slightly and pressing even deeper.  
The world fell further out of focus. With his throat so stretched, the outside world came strangely muted, dulled like noises underwater; his own heartbeat rammed louder into his ears with every breath he didn't take, and it build a staggered rhythm with Chrono's own faster pulse and his shallow thrusts. It was all he could feel, all he could hear, and he closed his eyes to surrender himself to it, to the overwhelming beat and the feeling of Chrono's tip sliding against his throat, inside his throat, to the helpless pleasure of being stretched and held in place.  
He clung to his legs with his hands, and wished with a shudder that his hands had been tied back for this.  
Chrono pulled back, giving him time enough to gasp in a few breaths, and then pressed back in, with more purpose this time. While the first run had clearly been to give him time to get used to it and to establish the right feeling between them, now that things were running smoothly he was thrusting more in earnest, actually using him for his actual purpose. His movements were no longer an act of communication, of cooperation, but a sensual search for sensation, and Ibuki felt it in the altered rhythm of his thrusts, fast early shoves and slower, sliding deeper pushes, in the arc of his hips as they pressed forward against him.  
Ibuki shuddered, and let his tears fall, not attempting to hold them back. Chrono pushed them out with every thrust, and with every thrust he found himself sinking further into the sensation, into a state beyond helplessness, a strangely grounding feeling of just existing, sensations completely accidental. His body, he felt, would collapse if Chrono wasn't holding him. If he stopped using him, there would be nothing left to hold him up.  
He felt so limp that he could barely imagine or remember feeling any other way.  
Chrono pulled out, and thrust again. Every time, he let Ibuki breathe, and Ibuki just let his body do it on automatic, not even trying on his own anymore. It was both too much and too little, an overwhelming deluge of feeling that he wished could go on forever, losing all touch with his thoughts. He let his eyes open, and sometimes slid them closed, but didn't even try to see through the blurring of his tears, instead just letting them flutter with his tears and the occasional pressure of gagging.  
The taste, the slick slide against his tongue, the smell of Chrono's sweat, it all mixed with his dulled vision and the silent roar of pressure in his hears, and there was nothing else but this, but him. Chrono.  
And then Chrono's thrusts started falling out of rhythm.  
He wouldn't have noticed, if it hadn't made him press a little harder and faster than he normally would, forcing Ibuki to cough a little to adapt to it. He blinked a little, enough to somewhat focus through his tears, and looked up during a brief respite. Chrono's face was flushed, lax with pleasure, his breath laboured. It sent a wave of shuddering satisfaction coursing through him, a climax made entirely of emotions. To see such an expression on Chrono, to see him lose himself in sensuality, in his own desire… it was worth everything. He wanted to be an instrument of that pleasure as often as he could.  
Skin buzzing with burning shivers, he closed his eyes again, and put his everything into making himself as lax as possible, so that Chrono could drive himself to climax with no resistance or inconvenience.  
It didn't take him very long. With each thrust, his breathing and movements were getting more erratic, until with a shuddering breath he twisted his hand into Ibuki's hair hard and pushed him as far down as he could, hips pressed up right to his face, and held him there with an iron grip as he came deep in his oversensitive throat.  
Ibuki shuddered; Chrono curled forward a little, wrapping his other arm around him too, cradling his head as he rode the aftershocks, still buried deep inside him. He didn't need to say his name; Ibuki heard, in the tender and possessive hold, the heartfelt whisper that would normally come to his lips.

He stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard with the occasional moan, rubbing a thumb into Ibuki's scalp. And then, Ibuki's lungs hit their current limit, and tried to draw air even around the intrusion, and he couldn't completely hold back the smothered cough that shook his chest.  
Chrono's hands tightened, welcome firmness and support as he felt himself start to come undone. Slowly, he pulled back, keeping Ibuki's head carefully held, and slid out of his throat and mouth, pulling him up to rest against his stomach instead. Ibuki coughed, his throat grappling with the sensation of no longer being filled, with the ghost pressure of Chrono inside him, his overstimulated nerves refusing to register that things had gone back to normal. He shuddered, and pressed his face into Chrono's stomach, breathing in his scent and his warmth and the safety of his hold. Chrono's legs were shaking a bit as he curled closer around him, and in a way it was reassuring too, knowing that he'd come undone as much as him.  
“C-Chrono…” he whispered, his voice hoarse and sore.  
“Good job,” Chrono murmured, and with Chrono's hand brushing the side of his head, no words could have made him happier.  
Too winded to really talk, he only nodded against his skin, exhaling a shaky, almost laughing breath.  
“… are you okay?” Chrono gently asked him once he'd caught his breath a little.  
“Yes,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against him. “… let me just…”  
He tentatively pulled back, and Chrono allowed him, keeping one hand loosely on his head but giving him free movement. Ibuki lowered himself a little again, bringing his head down. Chrono had gone soft, but he wanted to finish his work properly, and carefully licked away remaining traces of saliva and semen.  
Above him, Chrono made a small noise, but didn't stop him; he slowed down a little, to avoid causing him any discomfort when he was probably oversensitive, and made sure to keep his touch light, yet tangible enough to not be teasing.  
The taste and texture of semen had never really agreed with him that much; the touch of it on his tongue had taken some getting used to. But although he didn't enjoy the taste itself, dealing with it was a matter of pride, and the satisfaction of being able to take all of it and clean completely more than made up for any discomfort, just like the knowledge of the rest inside him made him buzz with pride and acceptance. It was fulfilling. An endorsement, and a reward for a job well done.  
With cleaning out of the way, he started pulling Chrono's clothes back up.  
“… you could've taken more time to rest…” Chrono murmurred, concern mixing with embarrassment. “I can take care of that myself…”  
“I want to,” Ibuki said, and that was that. Chrono didn't question him more, and instead just watched over him as he finished dressing him, going as far as sliding his belt back on, even though he would likely be taking a bath later.  
Once he was done, he leaned against him again. Chrono's hand came to pet him; a smile slid on his lips, unprompted but not unwelcome. Physically, he was still high strung, and probably needed to rest for a little while. But the feeling that washed through him was a warm sense of satisfaction.  
Chrono, to his surprised, leaned forward against him too, a breathy, nervous laugh escaping him.  
“O-okay, _I_ 'm the one who needs to rest. My legs are gonna start shaking any moment now.” He breathed in, exhaled a little harshly to ground himself. “Can you stand without help?”  
“Of course.”  
Ibuki might have preferred sitting cross-legged to kneeling in a lot of contexts, but he hadn't done years of martial arts for nothing. Being able to take weight or hold tense positions and keep proper command on his legs was one of the fruits of his effort that he wasn't above showing off a little.  
Pulling his feet under himself, he leaned back a little, and once he was sure that Chrono wouldn't collapse without his support, shifted his weight and stood in one fluid movement.  
Chrono chuckled.  
“Show-off,” he murmured, reaching up to caress his cheek and slide fingers into the roots of his hair.  
“… you wanted to rest?”   
To be honest, he was in no hurry to be parted from Chrono's petting, but he didn't want him to push himself for his sake.   
“Mmmyeah. Sofa?”  
Ibuki nodded, and moved aside to let him lead. Unsurprisingly, Chrono took his hand on the way and pulled him along.

Sitting on something soft, he had to admit, was more comfortable than kneeling on the ground, especially with Chrono's body warm against him and one of his arms around him.  
Chrono, when they sat down, had been quick to pull him close, and Ibuki knew that his cuddling and petting was at least as much for his own sake as for Ibuki's. That it was his way of calming himself down, of reassuring himself that his husband wasn't hurt or upset—or going to disappear. It rarely spilled out, and did so less and less as years went by, but he still needed the ritual to ground himself, and Ibuki was all too happy to indulge him.  
“I, uh… I didn't go _too_ overboard, did I?” Chrono asked, sounding almost amused and disbelieving at himself.  
“Absolutely Not,” Ibuki answered. He enunciated every syllable carefully, and Chrono's chest moved with a silent laugh.  
“… I never imagined it'd come so _easily_. So naturally. Like once I decided to it just… happened. That's kinda scary, honestly. Looking back.”  
 _Not at all_ , was his first instinct, but he pondered a better answer for a moment.  
“… you hold a power that could have destroyed the world,” he said, “and yet you've only ever used it to help or protect others. I trust you with that level of power. If it comes to you naturally, it just means that it's part of who you are. It doesn't mean you'd use it for harm.”  
“I—” He paused. “You've thought about this, huh?”  
“… it's not the first time you've voiced similar concerns,” he said, a little sheepish. “I wanted to think about it properly and give you a proper answer, not empty reassurance.”  
“I guess you make a pretty solid argument. Uses evidence and everything.”  
“I can raise the years I've spent with you as further evidence,” he said with a smile.  
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Chrono answered with a grin of his own.  
His protective hold didn't weaken in the least, but Ibuki wasn't about to complain about that.  
“… I'm glad that it comes naturally,” he admitted after a few quiet moments.  
“Huh?”  
“… I can be sure I'm not forcing it on you.”  
“… oh. Oh no, I…” He looked away a little, blushing slightly. “… it was _great_. You make it great. Watching you like that, it's just…” He trailed off, tightening his hold, then took in a grounding breath. “And I wanted to earlier, I just…”  
“… I thought I'd been too forward,” Ibuki admitted with a smile. In retrospect, considering what had just happened, he was pretty sure he'd been wrong.  
Sometimes, it was good to be wrong.  
Chrono shook his head.  
“I was too high-strung and it made me self-conscious,” he chuckled. “And you looked pretty out of it, so I didn't want to push…”  
“You know I would happily do it regardless,” Ibuki pointed out, leaning his head against him and sighing in contentment. His body was still wired from the strainful treatment, but under Chrono's fingers, it was quickly relaxing, melting into the touch, and the tension left behind only a deep feeling of satisfaction and excitement, and a faint soreness that still made his heart beat.  
“… I know,” Chrono said quietly, rubbing his fingers deeper into Ibuki's scalp.  
“In fact,” Ibuki sighed, breath a little short from the sensation, “being requested even when I'm not at my best is part of the excitement.” Chrono's fingers tensed, tightened, and he shuddered, and continued, emboldened: “… it's _all the more exciting_ , even.”  
Chrono let out a whine and bent down to hide his face in his hair.  
“… Chrono?”  
Chrono let out a whining hum.  
“… is that bad?” he asked again, more quietly.  
“No!” Chrono straightened. “No, it's good. You're good. You're _too_ good and I need to let this sink in or my brain is going to overheat.”  
If Ibuki had tried to hide the proud smile that spread on his face, he would probably have failed.  
“Should I get you some ice?”  
“Stop teasing me,” Chrono retorted, giving the back of his head a mock blow that barely grazed him and laughing.  
“Then,” Ibuki said, looking up at him, “let me take care of that rice at least. I know how to do that now.”  
Chrono's face, already warmed, softened.  
“… fine. I'll just relax here, then. It's been a long day.”  
Ibuki smiled and stood, but before he could leave, Chrono caught his sleeve and pulled him back to his level, dragging him until their faces were close and kissing him.  
“Actually,” he said, “get me a coffee before that.”  
The smile that reached Ibuki's face bubbled up from deep inside his chest.  
“Of course.”


End file.
